Imperfect
by killah-sama
Summary: //DarkDaisuke// As an artist, he wanted to find someone whose looks and personality were beyond unparalleled; he wanted raw perfection in the form of a human being. What he found was someone he actually needed: a loud, obnoxious kleptomaniac named Dark.
1. The Perfect Person

**Title: **Imperfection**  
Rating: **T  
**Pairing(s): **Dark/Daisuke**  
Genre: **Romance / General

**Summary:** (DarkDaisuke) As an artist, he wanted to find someone whose looks and personality were beyond unparalleled; wanted raw perfection in the form of a human being. What he found was someone he actually needed: a loud, obnoxious kleptomaniac named Dark.

Okay… What the fuck am I doing with another story under my belt? Well…I'm kicking ass, that's what I'm doing! Er – well at least I like to pride myself into thinking I'm kicking ass. For all I know, I could really suck and have thousands of people out for my blood because of my lack of writing skills… Uh. Yeah. That seems a wee bit more plausible.

So what the fuck am I doing with another story? Well I'm majorly sucking and unintentionally making people lust after my blood! How 'bout that, aye? x)

Anyway… I deleted Magnolia because when I started it, I was in a smutty mood. But then I realized… _Fuuuudge_, I'm an innocent little virgin flower! …/cough/ By which I mean, I'm not about to write smut that my sister could very easily stumble upon while on the computer… So I was pretty sad…until I thought of this. T-T And that made me even more sad…because the plot bunnies totally ganged up on me and forced this at me. There goes all my concentration for Why The Caged Bird Sings. xC Oh my… This won't bode well with my reviewers… xD Well anywhoosle… I suppose you can read it if you want… x)

- - - - - - 

Niwa Daisuke smiled at the girl before him. Of course, the slight twitch of his right eye and the strain barely showing on his lips revealed the falsity of his smile.

Sure, she was absolutely beautiful, what with her long brown hair, her sparkling hazel eyes, and her slim, curvy body, but she was also absolutely _exhausting_. Her voice was high pitched – at moments, it was bordering on the point of shrill – and she used her voice quite a bit; her mere presence had started to grate on his nerves twenty minutes into their date.

But then again, it wasn't quite a date. It was more of an interview.

Daisuke's smile faded a little and he cleared his throat, causing Harada Risa to close her mouth in the middle of her life story. (Really, she had only been asked to explain why she had been half an hour late.) "Oh…I'm sorry, Niwa-kun."

"Not at all, Harada-san. So I was just wondering… How did you come across my number in the first place?"

Risa's eyes lit up and Daisuke found himself admiring their unique chocolaty shade. "Well, I found it in the newspaper. It said that the great artist Niwa Daisuke needed a new muse. Erm…I've been told that I could be a model by some friends, so I thought, 'Why not?'"

Daisuke eyes hardened a bit. _'Why not?'_ _Who does this girl think she is?_ Instead of voicing his displeasure, Daisuke smiled again. "Ah, of course. I had forgotten that Saehara written that article on me…" He murmured the last part to himself, staring somewhere past Risa's head.

"So…um… Do I pass?" Her voice was sweet; it was almost too sweet, actually.

The artist leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his locks of wild red hair. "Harada-san, you are by far one of the most beautiful women I have interviewed in the last year." She beamed at that, but the praise didn't seem to phase her at all. "However, I expect much from my future muse. After all, I plan to spend most of my available time with my muse." He couldn't help but notice the way her round eyes raked over his form. "I can't very well have the epitome of beauty by my side at all times…" She beamed again. "…And feel like hanging myself every time she decides to talk."

Risa's mouth dropped open, and Daisuke found this look more than unbecoming on her. That would simply not do.

"Wha…_what_?"

"I am terribly sorry, Harada-san." Daisuke stood, smiling sheepishly. "I've been told that I'm rather blunt when I'm at my wit's end… I'm not usually like this, of course." Placing several bills on the tabletop, he nodded to the brunette. "I should go. It was…nice meeting you, dear."

The redhead walked out of the quaint little café, shoving his hands into his pockets nonchalantly. As he strolled down the sidewalk, he could feel a slight prickling at the back of his mind…as though someone was trailing after him…

Daisuke spared a quick glance behind him to check on Risa, who was still sitting shell shocked in the café, using this movement as an excuse to quickly scan the street for anyone suspicious. A flash of dark brown caught his attention before slipping into an alley, and his eyes narrowed.

Pulling one hand out of his pocket – and with it, his cellular phone – the young man pressed the first number on his speed dial. The other line rang twice before an overly cheerful voice filled his right ear. "_Niiiiii_wa! Why _hello_ there, little buddy!"

Daisuke rolled his eyes dramatically, sighing into the phone. "Saehara… Get over here."

"But…I'm all the way in Kansai, reporting at…eh…Comic Con! …Yeah, that'll do…"

"Last I checked, Comic Con is still three months away. And even if I _were_ wrong, then I'm sure it's not in an alley between a bookstore and a florist in the middle of the Azumano district." Daisuke turned around to face the alley where he had seen the brown blur disappear into, and predictably, famed newspaper journalist Saehara Takeshi appeared out from behind the florist, grinning widely with a cell phone in his hand.

"Why, what a coincidence!" the brunette sang, shoving his phone into his pocket hurriedly. "What are you doing here, Niwa?"

Daisuke glared at the over-enthusiastic man before withering into a defeated slump. "Saehara… Did you track me into the café during my interview with Harada-san?"

Takeshi grinned brightly, skipping towards the redhead and slinging a friendly arm around his shoulder. "Randomly stopping by for a quick snack…going through your home phone's answering machine to find out where you'd be at this time today…isn't it all the same?"

Daisuke couldn't help but smile at his friend's infectious attitude. "You are out of control."

"And that's why you love me! Now tell me, Niwa: why'd you turn down the hottie? She was _smokin'_!"

Daisuke blanched. "Well sure she was. But ten minutes with her and you start wanting to go to the gun range…"

Takeshi stared wide-eyed at his friend. "To shoot her?" He pulled his arm back to his side protectively. "_Yeesh_, she's that bad?"

"No! To get those earmuff things that block out all the noise…"

"Earmuffs things?" Takeshi grinned and laughed. "Yeah, because that's what they're called nowadays."

Daisuke tried his best to glare. "You know what I mean!"

Takeshi rolled his eyes. "That aside, you need to stop being so damn picky. Just pick a damn girl and paint!"

Daisuke recoiled defensively, mouth set in a grimace. "Painting and reporting are two different things. I can't just pull the painter in me out of nowhere, with no inspiration whatsoever!"

"Are you saying what I do isn't hard?" Takeshi asked incredulously.

"No, no! Of course it's not. But you have inspiration literally everywhere. When you used to report things on live TV, you had the inspiration _right behind_ you. The chaos of natural disasters or a swarming crime scene; you had all that right at your disposal, and you could use that to describe to the people what was going on. And now, when you write for the newspaper, you do research and you look for the facts in order to do your job right."

Takeshi nodded in understanding. "Yeah, and so?"

"And _so_," Daisuke said, "isn't that what I'm doing, in my own weird way? While you look for the facts that would most definitely help your articles, I'm looking for a muse to help me with my art. When you worked for channel 4, you had your inspiration; I need to _find_ mine. Painting, reporting…two different things."

"Well I understand that, Niwa. But really…how hard is it to find the inspiration you're looking for?"

Daisuke let out a rueful sigh. "Surprisingly hard. I guess I am pretty picky," he admitted as an afterthought. "But I want my muse to be perfect."

"That girl at the café looked pretty perfect."

"Yes, she did." Daisuke didn't even try to hide the adoration in his voice. "She had great proportions, healthy and glossy hair, expressive eyes, and a great sense of style –" He ignored Takeshi's snort at his being oh so metro at the moment. "– but that's where her perfection ended. I'm looking for someone…perfect. Like, _perfect _perfect."

"_Perfect_ perfect," Takeshi repeated, the confusion etched visibly into his features.

"I'm looking for someone who looks beautiful and _behaves_ beautiful too. I don't just want someone stunning on the outside with an ugly inside. And you know my definition of ugly…"

Takeshi gave a lopsided grin. "Your definition of ugly is anything that you don't like."

Daisuke laughed. "Yeah… So I don't want her – or him – to be annoying or loud or mean or airheaded or snobbish. You know me. I'm mostly quiet and subdued…I would like someone like that, who wouldn't upset my balance of life. But the quiet ones I meet are too quiet. They're too shy. Then I meet the loud ones, and they make me cringe. The mean snobs are…mean snobs, obviously, and the airheads disappoint me so badly."

Takeshi nodded in understanding again, but his eyes were conflicting. "But Niwa…you can't possibly find the perfect person. There's no such thing."

Daisuke sighed. "That's what they all tell me. But I'm going to try. I know that the person I'm looking for is out there…"

The wise expression on the brunette's face faded into his usual cheeky smile. "Don't pull that woe-is-me aspiring poet act on me. You sound like you're looking for a potential wife!"

"Or husband," Daisuke added, knowing that Takeshi knew of and accepted his bisexuality. The reporter was his best friend, after all, and he trusted him with all his secrets despite his rather loose lips.

"Exactly!"

"Well I know what you're thinking, and you're such a pervert!"

"Well what else am I supposed to be thinking? You're gonna be spending all your time with some hot chick or…man, and of course we both know where that'll lead you."

"I am not going to go banging my muse. They're there for inspiration…"

"Uh huh… _Right._"

"Saehara, shut it!" Daisuke was slowly turning red, which made the reporter almost giggle with glee. He loved to tease his best friend.

Shaking his head laughingly, Takeshi smirked. "As much as I'd like to continue discussing your sexual deviousness _("WHAT?")_, Menou's expecting me home by two. I'll see you later?"

Sighing in defeat, Daisuke nodded. "Yeah. My gallery exhibition at the museum is tonight. I'll see you at ten – and don't be late this time!"

"Make no promises, break no promises!" Takeshi recited sagely before running off.

- - - - - -

Mousy Dark ambled through the darkened corridors of the museum, staring up at the artwork that was dutifully displayed on the walls. They were all old classics made by ancient Japanese men and he found no interest in any of them. They were so…cliché. Each had that Oriental vibe, balding royal men with thin moustaches, and magnificent pagodas. Sure, he found them nice to look at, but as a thief, he was well aware of the fact that he already owned quite a bit of this kind of art.

There were only so many _Tale of Genji­_-esque paintings one could stomach before the indifference towards them set it.

Dark sighed inaudibly and continued to prowl. His movements were smooth and graceful and he noted the difference between Mousy Dark the citizen and Dark the mysterious Phantom Thief. The scouting out of potential new additions to his extensive collection was conducted by him both as a citizen and a thief; the only difference was his timing. As an everyday florist whom no one would suspect of any foul play, he visited the museum on his free afternoons and walked around like a tourist. However, at night, he slipped in after hours with the stealth of a cat in order to further study whatever had caught his attention during daylight.

After all, it wouldn't help his inconspicuous citizen image to intensely stare at some random piece of art with longing written on his features. He wasn't too skilled at hiding his emotions, and want was almost always plastered on his face.

Just as the thief checked his watch for the time, a booming voice echoed throughout the museum, making Dark freeze with his wrist still bent towards his eyes. _10:00_.

"Welcome to Niwa-san's first official gallery showing, minna-san! This is a very great honor for our museum, seeing that after many years of painting, he had actually chosen _our_ humble building for his exhibit. I'll hand the mic over to our resident prodigy and let him say a few words before you are welcomed to walk around."

Dark followed the sound of polite applause downstairs and to the ground floor of the museum. It was extravagantly decorated and bathed in light, despite the fact that the entire place had been closed for the day. Perhaps this was the reason why?

Suddenly, Dark felt small and underdressed alongside the rest of the people in the room. While he wore a black dress shirt and a pair of tight leather pants, everyone else was either in a coat-and-tie outfit or a dress. Hey, it wasn't as if he fixed himself up to go prowling around in the dark.

While murmuring darkly to himself about the dress code he hadn't been informed about, a small man with spiky red hair caught Dark's attention. The redhead smiled at everyone fondly, a slight flush marring his young face, before holding a microphone up to his mouth.

"I would like to thank you all for coming to my little gallery exhibition. It's quite an honor for _me_ to be showcasing at this museum, actually. Uhm… Well I guess you've read about me in the papers or something, so I needn't talk about myself too much now… Well…" The redhead blushed even darker. "I guess you can walk around."

There was another round of applause, during which Dark chuckled quietly. For such a great painter, the young man didn't have much confidence. Oh yes, he knew the man. Despite his rather timid and unpretentious speech, the man was famous all across Japan as Niwa Daisuke, the great painter who was discovered at the mere age of fourteen. Why he had waited so long to finally hold a showcase, no one knew.

But it was a great honor to be invited to it; the museum, the day, the time, and even the _county_ the galleria was to be held in had been top secret to ensure that no outsiders had a chance of attending. Even the hottest gossip magazine hadn't been able to get any of the information.

Dark scoffed as he walked around the floor. It seemed a little obvious that the artist would want to showcase in his hometown; but then again, everyone overlooked the obvious.

Shining violet eyes took in meticulously framed artworks with appreciation. He was surprised at how much of an interest he was taking in the Niwa's work. Normally, he found modern art a little less exciting than the old works; however, Daisuke's art was very good. _Very_ good.

"Good, huh?" A voice snapped Dark from his thoughts and he almost jumped.

Shrugging off the facts that he was an art thief, that he _hadn't_ been invited to the gallery, and that he had mistakenly ended up there because he had been sneaking around the museum after hours, Dark smiled widely. He radiated nothing but charm and finesse. "More than good, if I may say so." He turned towards the speaker and was filled with an odd sense of recognition.

"Yes, Niwa is quite the genius with a brush, isn't he?" The brunette man beside him flashed him a quick smile, revealing what looked like a fang, but it could have just been Dark's imagination. "I'm Saehara Takeshi, a reporter for the _Times_."

Dark nodded in greeting. The name was more than familiar, but he was sure that he had seen the reporter in person somewhere. "I'm Mousy Dark…an _avid_ art fan." Oh ho ho, the other man had _no_ idea just how avid he was about art.

"Ah, aren't we all…"

The two fell silent after that and about a minute later, Takeshi walked away. He mingled with the crowd of fancy-looking aristocrats until all Dark could see was his blob of brown hair.

Suddenly, it hit him, and Dark felt like laughing. He remembered where he had seen the man before. It had been earlier that day, a little past one, when a very wild-looking brunette had run up to his flower shop and into the alley beside it. He had found it incredibly odd, but brushed it off as a natural occurrence. The man had resurfaced after maybe a minute or so before skipping back into the street and out of Dark's sight.

Laughingly, Dark moved on to a different painting. This one entranced him just as much as the previous one had and soon enough, he felt a familiar bubbling sensation fill him.

_Oh great. This is just what I need right now…_

But Dark couldn't deny the feeling; he _wanted_ Daisuke's art. He wanted a Niwa Daisuke work. The thief grinned to himself mischievously, not noticing the slightly shorter man who had appeared beside him.

"My first portrait…"

The spoken words once again jarred Dark from his own mind, pulling him back into the real word. He turned to face his newest approach, only to mentally reel back in surprise. Vibrantly scarlet hair immediately assaulted his vision and his purple eyes widened in surprise for a second.

Hiding his shock, Dark smirked towards the famed artist and nodded encouragingly. "Really? It looks too good to be a first of anything…" he admitted.

Daisuke looked up and smiled. "Yeah… I had been drawing a bunch of still life and stuff from my own imagination, so I thought it was time for some change. I asked my friend to pose for me…and this was the result."

"Quite a good result, too," Dark added, gazing back at the portrait of a gorgeous man whose crystalline blue hair matched his icy eyes.

Daisuke shrugged. "I guess…"

Dark stared at the artist silently, as though contemplating him, before said man looked up at him and arched an elegant eyebrow.

"This is weird."

"Why so?"

Daisuke shuffled and tugged at his black tie. "You're not fawning over me."

Dark nearly let out a bark of laughter. "Am I supposed to be fawning over you?"

Daisuke flushed, abandoning his tie and waving both hands out in front of him to illustrate a negative response. "No, no! It's just that…everyone does. It's so tiring."

"I'd bet it would be," Dark said. He could sympathize with the young man. He remembered his four years of high school; he was _very_ familiar with the feeling of being obsessed over, and it certainly wasn't fun – especially when crazed fangirls decided to do the obsessing.

Daisuke nodded slowly to himself before meeting Dark's gaze again. "What was your name again?"

"Mousy Dark," Dark answered back immediately.

Daisuke smiled and turned around. "I really should be mingling with my other guests, all of whom I invited personally…" he said softly, his back facing Dark. "Thank you for coming, Mousy-san. But next time…" His head swiveled around shortly and he winked. "You'll be needing your own invitation."

Almost gaping like a fish, Dark watched Daisuke walk away from him. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but eye the way his hips sashayed as he walked. _Oh yes…_ He thought devilishly to himself. He _definitely _wanted a Niwa Daisuke.

- - - - - -

**Killah: **Well…this chapter is more of a prologue-filler thingy, but I don't think I did too badly on it. :D I'm actually _really_ surprised it got so gosh darn long! And there isn't even any fluff or shounen-ai in it… :O I'm a total freak for dialogue, in case you couldn't tell, so I guess that's how all these words ended up eating the page. Oh my. Oh goodness. Oh geez. Oh no. Oh wow.

Oh – review. :D Just pop me a "You crazy whore, stop writing" or an "Omg continue" and I'll be happy. Love you!


	2. The Perfect Entrance

**Title: **Imperfection**  
Rating: **T  
**Pairing(s): **Dark/Daisuke**  
Genre: **Romance / General

**Summary:** (DarkDaisuke) As an artist, he wanted to find someone whose looks and personality were beyond unparalleled; he wanted raw perfection in the form of a human being. What he found was someone he actually needed: a loud, obnoxious kleptomaniac named Dark.

Wow. I wasn't expecting so much feedback for the first chapter! I love all my readers and my reviewers, because you guys are the fuel to my solar powered pen! Bwuahhh, yes that makes…sense. xD Ahaha, well continue on, loves.

- - - - - - 

Daisuke smiled cheerfully and nodded towards their waitress. "Yes, we'll take a check now." The woman practically bounced away and the redheaded man turned towards his companion, still beaming brightly. "Where was I? Oh, yes. _I found him!_" The three words were breathlessly expelled from his lips in a strained whisper and he could barely contain his excitement. "Can you believe that?"

Takeshi arched a brow from across the table, stirring his iced tea quickly. The two were currently at the very same café Daisuke and Risa had rendezvoused at yesterday, a fact he hadn't failed to poke Daisuke with. He had started their little meeting by teasing the redhead about being a sadist who regularly revisited places where he killed people's dreams.

"Wait, you found _who_?"

"My _muse_! I found one, and it's a _he_!"

Takeshi blanched. "Darn, so no nudie portraits of some hot girl?"

Daisuke blushed red and glared at his friend. "Saehara, you have a fiancé! And that's not what my muse is for! My muse – he's supposed to be there to inspire me. His beauty will make my mind totally…fill itself with beautiful things and…stuff. He won't necessarily be the subject of all my paintings."

Rolling his eyes, Takeshi shrugged. "Okay then, sure. Well? Who is it?"

"I don't know if you know him, but he was at my gallery last night. …Uninvited, sure, but that's beside the point." Chuckling slightly, Daisuke sipped at his chilled Thai tea. "He's absolutely stunning. He has these striking purple eyes and messy purple hair impossibly styled to look like he just rolled out of bed. Pale, too, with a fetish for black, and he's got a great build, from what I could make out from under his clothes."

Takeshi stared wide-eyed at the artist across from him. "Were you checking him out?"

"What?" Daisuke squawked. "No, I was _not_ checking him out! I was _studying_ him! I mean, everyone out there could be a potential muse to me! My eyes tend to wander in my search for the perfect being."

Chortling, Takeshi blew him a raspberry. "Now that's a pervert's comment if I ever heard one."

"I am _not_ a pervert! Well anyway… I'm assuming he's got a good personality, too. When we talked, he wasn't at all phased by the fact that's I'm a famous artist. We were both just really relaxed. I mean, we just had this short little exchange of words…talked about my art a little…some other unimportant stuff… But he wasn't gushing and he wasn't insulting me and he was _gorgeous_." Daisuke beamed proudly. "I can't wait to call him and make him an offer…"

"This is sounding more and more like a potential shag," Takeshi murmured to himself. He smiled at his iced tea cheerfully, dodging Daisuke's suspicious gaze. "Well that's great for you, Niwa. And just in time, too. Just yesterday, I heard some art freaks discussing the fact that it was mostly your old stuff that was being displayed at the showcase. They caught the fact that you hadn't come out with anything new in a while."

Daisuke grimaced. "Did they really? Well I guess I'll have to track down Mousy soon then!"

"Mousy?" Takeshi's mind struggled to recognize the name. "As in…Mousy Dark?"

"Yeah!" Eyes alight, Daisuke asked, "You know him?"

"I met him at your shindig last night too. Now, don't get any ideas about me." Winking playfully, the brunette spoke his next words quite confidently. "I don't swing that way at all, you know that, Niwa-_chan_ – but _damn_, that Mousy was pretty freaking _hot_."

The two were silent for about a minute before Daisuke dissolved into a somewhat-restrained fit of laughter, heard only by two people: Takeshi, and a certain young man sitting several tables away.

After all, Dark was just innocently enjoying a cup of black coffee at the café near his flower shop when loud laughter suddenly filled his ears. At his table inconveniently placed behind a tall potted plant, he had to crane his neck _around_ its drooping leaves in order to find the source of the noise.

Once again, impossibly bright red hair entered Dark's vision. Beneath the hair was a pair of matching cherry eyes, a cute button nose, and a cheerfully upturned mouth.

"What, Saehara? Am I actually converting you into Dai-sexuality?" Dark noted that Daisuke's voice seemed a lot less formal compared to last night. He had the voice of a young man who enjoyed spending his afternoons hanging out with friends, not a prodigious artist who walked around his own showcase in a suit and tie.

"Dai-sexuality? Is that what we're calling it now? I mean, we can always stick to the old fashioned name…" Dark recognized the brunette man with Daisuke for the second time; it was that Saehara character, and he was smiling broadly.

"Old fashioned? How far have you and I gotten choosing the old fashioned way? Besides–" Daisuke grinned. "–they rhyme! Dai-sexual, bisexual; I mean, can you say _perfect_?"

_SCORE! _Dark practically did a little victory jig in his seat. It was always easier seducing men if they already had a fetish for someone whose gender matched theirs; straight guys always could be swung over – _always_ – but it just took too much time, energy, and effort.

"Alright then, if you say so… And by the way, _NO_, you are _not_ converting me. Besides, if you ever did, Menou would kick ASS: both yours _and_ mine, so let's hope it never comes to that."

Daisuke laughed, and it sounded like bells were tolling all around Azumano. _Man, my imagination sure likes to make sappy narratives… _Dark couldn't help but think.

"Oh! That reminds me…are you _sure_ I can borrow your cabin up in the mountains for the weekend? I mean…weren't you two planning a little vacation of your own?" Red brows furrowed in concern. "I don't want to take that away from you…"

Takeshi shook his head, waving his arms around to illustrate his carelessness. "Nah, go on ahead. Menou was thinking something insanely exotic, like _California_ or something… Personally, I like the sound of Forks, Washington!"

"Saehara, you are such a _Twilight_ freak… Does Fork even _exist_?"

"IT'S FORKS!" Takeshi shut his mouth and blinked silently before hacking up a fake cough and shrugging. "I mean… Does it matter?" Ignoring the redhead's amused smile, the reporter plunged a hand into his right pocket and pulled out a set of keys. "Well _anyway_… Here are the keys to the front door, the back door, the side door, the bath house, the wine storehouse…" Flipping through all the bronze-colored keys with amazing speed and ease, Takeshi finished tabbing all their uses and set them on the table. "Take them and have a peaceful weekend for once."

Nodding gratefully, Daisuke reached across the table and grasped the ring of keys within his hand. "Thanks Saehara… I only hope I can take your advice though. Everyone's been bugging me about new art pieces and everything… I think I'll do some painting up there, too, where it's quiet and nice…"

Dark's eyes brightened at the redhead's words. Daisuke would be all alone, up in a cabin somewhere isolated, and he would be making new paintings. The very obvious opportunity set before him, with only Kami and the droopy green plant as his witnesses, was like killing two birds with one stone! Not only could he snag a couple of pieces, but he could probably snag the redhead, too. All he had to do was show up on Daisuke's recluse little vacation and let his charm and his ability to steal take over.

Dark smirked. _Now_…_to actually _get_ to this quaint cabin of his…_

Luckily for Dark, Takeshi just so happened to discuss directions from the outskirts of Azumano to the cabin; and he just so happened to recommend a shuttle bus that could took people up there if the lack of a car was part of the equation.

Why, luckily for Dark, his memory skills _just so happened_ to match his thieving skills with a roaring vengeance.

- - - - - -

Daisuke gave a slight sigh of approval as he surveyed Takeshi's winter cabin. Despite the amount of snow surrounding it, it radiated a homey sort of feeling that just seemed to be calling him in. Not wanting to freeze in the chilly winds, Daisuke gave in to the small lodge's call and climbed up the wooden steps to the door of the cabin.

After several minutes of cheerful jangling, Daisuke eventually found the key to the front door and let himself in. To his pleasure, the cabin's insides were warm and cozy, and littered with little trinkets and furniture pieces that completed the homey vibe. He immediately crashed onto a chair whose back faced the electric fireplace, wrapping his white and gray parka tighter around his figure and dropping his luggage to the ground.

"Wow… It's really nice in here!" He spent several minutes surveying the little place where he'd be spending his weekend, attempting to turn on the fireplace with three different remotes, and letting his eyes take in several pictures of a little Takeshi with his father. "Oh man! I can't wait to bring these up in front of Saehara…"

Laughter subsiding, Daisuke grasped the strap of his large messenger bag and pulled it into his lap. He sifted through its contents leisurely, letting his fingers linger shortly over tubes of paint, a collection of different brushes, a thin wood palette, and a folding easel, before pulling out a blank canvas. He held it up at an arm's distance and stared at its empty whiteness, smiling gently.

"I guess this is where it all begins…"

He placed the canvas onto the arm of his chair to free his hands, and then set them to work almost immediately once again. Pulling almost everything out of his messenger bag – which Takeshi had dubbed his Artist's Purse, to Daisuke's horror – the redhead set up a little work station. His set of colored paints sat amongst his collection of brushes atop the surface of a little coffee table and his easel stood proudly in front of him, fully unfolded and slightly frail-looking. His wooden palette, still stained with splashes of discernible color from its last usage, sat comfortably across the length of his arm, just ready to be slathered with all sorts of paints. Daisuke grabbed the canvas from its spot on the armrest and propped it up on his easel, completing the scene.

The redheaded artist knew that in just moments, there would be specks of paint flying and stacks of ruined canvases growing, but he couldn't help but find appreciation in the clean, peaceful image set up before him.

Closing his eyes slowly, Daisuke let his hands guide him. His arm instinctively reached for his tubes of paint, his fingers mechanically grasped a single container, and his hand automatically squeezed the unknown shade onto the palette resting on his opposite arm. The process repeated itself several times until the weight on his left forearm – the arm with the palette – seemed considerably heavier. He opened his garnet eyes and glanced down at the colors his subconscious had chosen; red, brown, yellow, green, white, gray, and blue.

Daisuke squinted at the colors thoughtfully, trying to paint a picture in his mind using these colors primarily. A cheerful autumn day began to filter into his thoughts, but very out of place white, gray, and blue splotches of color ended that idea. Perhaps a gloomy autumn night riddled with twinkling, colorless stars? He dismissed that idea too; in order to pull off the illusion of night, he would have to darken the leaves, and that would take away from the whole fall season-y theme.

Shrugging, Daisuke abandoned his thought process, instead calling an image of Dark into his mind.

"Maybe the whole muse thing will work without the actual muse in front of me," Daisuke thought aloud, trying to remember the taller man's beauty.

With flushed cheeks, the redhead recalled Dark's tall figure and lean build. He recalled his soothingly deep voice and how it had been used to _converse_ with him, not fawn over him. He recalled the smirk on his face the moment he spotted him, along with the smiles and understanding looks that followed. He recalled the unique color of his stylish hair, and the way his matching eyes sparkled in the museum's florescent lighting. He recalled the way his tight pants clung to his shapely legs like a second skin and the way his black dress shirt accentuated his slightly tanned skin.

Still blushing, Daisuke remembered the words Takeshi had spoken at the café just yesterday.

Maybe he _had_ been checking Dark out…

He choked and shook his head. No, he couldn't think like that. When it came to his art, he was absolutely, one hundred percent _asexual. _He couldn't risk ruining his concentration by getting himself into dramatic relationships with his muses.

But then again, he could always try to find another muse and try his hand at dating Dark…

_No, no, NO!_

Scoffing to himself cynically, Daisuke rolled his eyes. As if Dark would give him the time of day. He really wasn't anything special, he told himself reproachfully. He was kind of on the skinny side, his eyes were too big, and he had the strangest hair color known to man.

Besides – there was no better muse than Mousy Dark!

Nodding to himself, Daisuke let his thoughts wander to the amethyst-eyed man again. How could he contact him? He _knew_ he hadn't invited him to his gallery exhibit; after all, he had hand written invitations for every one of his guests. Since the man had randomly dropped in on his showcase with no invite, he didn't know his phone number or address. It would be impossible for him to get in touch with the beautiful man.

"Maybe I can ask Saehara to track him down."

Blanching at the thought of Takeshi teasing him about Dark, Daisuke made a face. "It's in the name of art, Daisuke," he told himself boldly, setting his brush down on his right thigh.

Oddly enough, his brush was _wet_.

"Gah!" He hurriedly picked his brush up again, staring down at the dark purple splotch that had imprinted itself on his dark washed jeans. "What…?" Slowly, forbiddingly, as if he knew what was going to happen, Daisuke let his eyes trail up from the paint stain to the empty canvas. Except, it wasn't empty anymore.

Blushing furiously, Daisuke surveyed the painting he hadn't even been aware of painting. It was something he did on occasion; making art without even noticing that his arm was maneuvering a brush across the blank whiteness of a canvas – but it wasn't the fact that he had been absentmindedly working without his own knowledge that caused him to flush.

Because a sketchy Dark stood before him, lean frame outlined dimly with painstakingly thin, almost pen-like stokes of light gray paint. Where fairly tanned skin should have been was only white, due to the lack of beige paint on his palette. Stylish locks of the deepest plum exploded from the page, falling in front of the man's face and framing his eyes.

Wine-colored eyes stared blankly at Daisuke, unnerving him. Dark's face was pulled into a playful smirk, but it didn't reach his eyes. They seemed dead and lifeless, not at all like the eyes he had locked with last, last night.

Shaking his head, Daisuke lifted the canvas off its easel and deposited it gently to the floor.

_Misuse of a muse! You little pervert! _His mind screamed, sounding oddly like Takeshi, but he ignored it.

With renewed vigor, Daisuke set on painting, this time consciously trying to avoid the mixture of red and blue paint he had unwittingly blended.

- - - - - -

Finding the shuttle Takeshi had been describing yesterday hadn't been too hard. It was getting from the secluded _shuttle station_ to the brunette's _private_ _cabin_ that had stumped Dark. After all, the cabin hadn't been right next to the station like he had been anticipating. He had been forced to wander around the snowy mountaintop in the cold until finally stumbling upon something that looked _remotely _like a ranger station.

It had been locked, but luckily, there was a huge map hung on the door that pointed out trails and other things, including the more private, residential areas.

So in front of a homey-looking cabin was where Dark found himself, a good four hours behind his own internal schedule. Night was quickly approaching, but it seemed to work out pretty well for his tastes; he always felt like more of a thief when he did his thieving at night.

He checked his digital watch and _6:08 PM _stared him in the face, blinking annoyingly. Due to his impressive stalking – er, _listening _–skills, Dark had learned that Daisuke had been planning to arrive at the cabin at 1:00. So that meant the redhead had been maxing and relaxing – and painting! – for about five hours.

"Well… I guess the first step is –" Dark placed on hand on his hip and another on the back of his head, gazing up at the looming lodge before him. "– to find a way in." A devilish grin appeared on his face and he began to circle the cabin stealthily, his feet making shallow marks in the snow.

As he surveyed the outer workings of the little lodge, Dark could not find an open window anywhere in sight. They were all bolted shut from the inside, deterring his plan of sneaking in through an inconspicuous windowpane near the back of the cabin. Shrugging slightly, he gazed at the back door contemplatively. He could always pick the lock; but then again, that wasn't very thief-esque of him.

The Phantom Thief Dark didn't enter through _doors_, like your average citizen; he went out of his way to make an entrance that no one would ever see. It was like his trademark; a trademark no one really acknowledged, sure, but trademark nonetheless.

It was barely seven, but it was already starting to look like nine; the snowy surroundings and lack of sunshine made the mountaintop look misleadingly dark. Dark sighed and glanced up at the darkening sky. As he stared at what was either an airplane or a twinkling star, something else caught his attention. That something was so very much closer; solid and sturdy.

That something was also the answer to his quest for an entrance.

- - - - - -

Daisuke had just added a fourteenth canvas to his Failure Stack when a very loud, very random "OOMPH!" resounded in his ears, accompanied by several painful-sounding thumps.

"What the heck was that?" he asked aloud, eyes wide. He stood suddenly, wincing at the lack of feeling in his legs; after all, he had been sitting for quite a while. "I swear…if Saehara's trying to sneak in on me…" He didn't know where the idea came from, but it seemed like something Takeshi would do for a laugh.

However, all thoughts concerning his reporter friend went flying out of his head when a black-clad body dropped out of the chimney and onto the electric fireplace in a shower of dust and harmless sparks.

After the fog of filth cleared, an indignant voice sarcastically barked out from the rubble, "Ho ho ho, it's bloody Santa Claus."

- - - - - -

**Killah:** Okay. Wow. This is lacking the whole Dark/Daisuke interaction I was planning. O.O Like…insanely lacking. Arghhh. First chapter gets eaten by dialogue, and now this one was filled with art? I don't even know. xC Whatever… I'll quit bitching.

Now go review, you brilliant, brilliant people!


	3. The Perfect Beginning

**Title: **Imperfection  
**Rating: **T  
**Pairing(s): **Dark/Daisuke**  
Genre: **Romance / General

**Summary:** (DarkDaisuke) As an artist, he wanted to find someone whose looks and personality were beyond unparalleled; he wanted raw perfection in the form of a human being. What he found was someone he actually needed: a loud, obnoxious kleptomaniac named Dark.

_WELL_, I'm tired of trying to limit my chapters – and thus, my chapter counts – like I have been… So screw it! Like some of my reviewers have been advising me, I'm just gonna let this story flow. It'll no longer be a planned three-short, like I had intended. It'll end when it ends. _Joy!_ So I went back to the last two chapters and took out the chapter counts…yaaaaaay. xP

- - - - - - 

Daisuke stared with wide eyes as the man in – on? – his electric fireplace stumbled onto the carpet with a grunt. He righted himself immediately, hands automatically flying up to check his face. The movement would have seemed a little more than vain to the redhead, but he realized with a start that the intruder was checking the area around his eyes to properly secure the white mask he was wearing over the upper part of his face.

_A burglar! _The alarms in his head were screaming quite loudly, and he stared at the man with narrowed eyes. "Excuse me?" With an arched brow, Daisuke regarded his visitor with an outer coolness that masked his utterly freaked-out insides. He could swear that his stomach was curling with anxiety, and his rioting kidneys sure weren't making the situation any easier.

The man grinned at him, raising a gloved hand and sending him a military salute. "Why hello there, Niwa-san." His mask had holes punched in for eyeholes, but the shadows thrown across the room seemed to enshroud those openings in darkness. Even the whites of his eyes were barely visible; his eye color remained a mystery. "I do believe you know who I am?" He ran that very same hand through his unruly hair, dispersing the dust particles that had taken refuge atop his head and returning it to its royal brilliance.

Daisuke started suddenly, staring closely at the man. His hair was a very familiar deep plum that sent his thoughts scattering. _Oh I don't believe it._

"I am, after all, the most infamous Kaitou in all of Japan! The most renown since…well, no one, because I just so happen to be the best. You know of my thieving infamy just as I know of your aesthetic skill. I am…" Smirking to himself, the kaitou ran another hand through his telltale hair and paused for dramatic effect.

"No, you can't be…" Daisuke stared openly, his sentence trailing off into a stunned sort of silence.

The thief ignored Daisuke's murmur, still grinning alluringly. "The one, the only –"

"_Mousy Dark!?_"

The man almost fell over, suddenly tripping on thin air at Daisuke's exclamation. When he regained his footing, he withered almost comically, his lips drooping into a crushed frown. "What the hell! How did you –? Er…I mean…" He attempted a smile, but the faintest hint of a pout could still be seen. "No. I'm not Mousy Dark. I am the great Phantom Thief Dark!"

And then the best thing happened: his mask fell off.

Deep, sensual purple eyes widened in shock and incredulity, staring at Daisuke with an expression somewhere in between horror and bewilderment. "I…you… Er…"

Daisuke nearly laughed; the look on Dark's face was just too priceless. "Mousy-san! _You_? You're that Kaitou Dark?" Of course he knew of the ever elusive thief; despite the man's overenthusiastic bragging, it was all very justified by the fact that he _was_ indeed famous all across Japan. "That's just insane."

Dark glared at Daisuke, holding his body up in an affronted sort of manner. "Insane? Why shouldn't I be the great Phantom Thief? Is there something wrong with me?"

_No, nothing wrong with you at all!_ Daisuke cleared his throat loudly, stopping his eyes from raking up and down Dark's figure with an elevator stare. "Well…it's just that you were at my showcase. Like you were a normal person."

Dark let out a bark of laughter, all formality in his stature immediately dissipating into thin air. He swept from his position in front of the fireplace and threw himself onto a couch to Daisuke's right. "Niwa, I _am_ a normal person. I'm not just a famous thief. I don't just sit at home during the daytime with my mask on waiting for art to look great enough for me to steal. I need to work, I need to interact with human beings, and I need to pay rent."

Daisuke considered the young man's words. "Well I guess that makes sense… But isn't it risky? Walking around the city is broad daylight with your hair and eyes the very same color as the thief on everyone's minds?"

Dark shrugged, lounging on the couch carelessly. "The mask hides my eyes and on most heists, it's too dark to really make out my hair color."

Daisuke nodded. "Okay… Uh…can I ask why you're here though?"

Dark sent a glance at his surroundings, sharp eyes taking in the pile of ruined canvases on the ground, the wet palette and brush grasped in Daisuke's hands, and the empty, lonely-looking easel placed before a comfy reclining chair. "I had been _planning_ on pillaging your cabin and taking all the new, great, awesome, super fantastic artworks you were supposed to have made by now…but I guess I can't do that at the moment."

Daisuke glared at Dark crossly. "Excuse me?"

"Daisuke," Dark drawled, rolling his eyes. "Did you honestly think that I would make such a journey to this godforsaken mountaintop _in my thieving outfit_ to just drop in and say hello?"

Daisuke put his palette and brush onto the coffee table beside him, placing his free hands onto his hips as his face flamed a bright red. "Mousy-san, just _when_ did you get on first name basis with me?"

"I prefer the Western way of naming people; makes me feel like I have a closer bond to everyone around me," Dark explained coolly.

"It makes you seem like an arrogant freak," Daisuke bit back, "_Mousy-san_."

"Please, call me Dark." He winked flirtatiously, doing nothing to help Daisuke's blush.

"I will not grant you any favors when you're just planning on stealing my art. Now if you would please just leave, that would be great."

Dark shifted his position on the couch, stretching his body out comfortably as if he had been lying on it for years. "Nah, I don't think so. I _always_ get what I want, and I want your art. I think I'll just stay here until you can make something pretty for me."

"You always get what you want?" Daisuke repeated. "I'm not going to make you anything you bigheaded jerk. I don't give spoiled little brats like you what they whine for." He stepped forward, arms outstretched in an attempt to push Dark. "Now get off the couch and get out."

Dark laughed openly, his eyes trained on Daisuke's approaching figure. "I'm not spoiled," he stated. In a quick flash, he grabbed both of the artist's arms in his tight grip and tugged playfully. The redhead immediately lost his balance and fell on top of Dark in a tangle of awkward limbs. "And 'little brats' don't usually do these kinds of things," he murmured, rolling his hips up to meet Daisuke's.

"_Oh!_" Flushing uncontrollably, Daisuke ripped his wrists out of Dark's grasp and placed them on his chest to balance himself. "Don't _do_ that, you…you pervert!"

Dark chuckled lowly, his breath rolling over Daisuke's nose and cheeks and reminding the painter just how close their faces were. "Seems I'm not the only one, though. I _saw_ you staring at me." He smirked, causing the shorter man to bristle. "And let's not forget that fact that you seem to be _straddling_ me."

Daisuke made a strangled noise at the back of his throat, promptly rolled off Dark, and fell heavily to the ground. "Ow!"

Dark languidly lifted himself up off the couch and stared down at Daisuke with faux pity on his handsome face. "Ah, poor Dai-chan – did you f_aaaa_ll?" he drawled.

"Well _obviously_," Daisuke snapped, supporting his upper body by propping himself up on his elbows. "And _don't_ call me Dai-chan! Honestly, don't you have any respect?"

"Respect, yes, but _self respect_…now that's a whole other matter. I find nightly solace in the arms of countless men." He winked and licked his lips slowly, watching with relish as Daisuke's face glowed a furious scarlet.

"Wha…_what?_"

Dark threw his head back and laughed, bending down to grab Daisuke by the waist and hauling him onto his feet. "I was _kidding_, Dai-Dai."

"Must you _really_ give me such stupid nicknames?" Daisuke stared down at Dark's chest, feeling more than comfortable with the taller man's arms around him. "It's Niwa to you."

"How about a compromise, Dai-chan? I call you…eh…_Daisuke_," Dark purred, "and you call me…Dark-sama."

Daisuke rolled his eyes. "Anything to make you stop with the embarrassing nicknames. We'll compromise." He reluctantly shrugged himself out of Dark's embrace and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you _Dark_. I'm _Daisuke._"

Dark sighed over-exaggeratedly and shrugged. "Well all right then, if that's what you insist on…" He extended his right hand and shook Daisuke's in a businesslike manner, his plum eyes sparkling lightheartedly. "But I still like Dai-chan."

In the silence following Dark's statement, a sudden _clink_ filled the air.

Several minutes of an even _louder_ silence ticked by, involving a very flabbergasted Dark and an equally ecstatic Daisuke.

Dark stared down at his wrist, gaping in horror. He had heard the _clink_, and he had felt the telltale coolness on his skin, but he _still_ couldn't quite grasp the revelation before him.

Daisuke had just whipped a pair of _handcuffs_, of all things, out from his pocket, effectively letting one cuff clasp itself hungrily around Dark's extended wrist. With his eyes dancing, the redhead cuffed his own left wrist and let out a bark of laughter. "And here I was, thinking that Hiwatari-kun was just a kinky fiend," he murmured to himself, tugging their joint wrists up at eye level. "But they _did_ have their use!"

"Daisuke…what the hell?" Dark inspected his restrained limb with something akin to fascination and annoyance showing clearly on his face. "Did you just handcuff me?"

Daisuke beamed, obviously proud with himself. "You're a _wanted felon. _The police are looking for you everywhere. I can't just let you walk around like a free man. Besides…it would help Hiwatari-kun out a lot if you were just brought in subdued. Those midnight chases through museum halls really take a toll on him. He's got low blood pressure, you know," he reprimanded, as though Dark was responsible for his enemy's health.

Dark stared at Daisuke with wide eyes. "You know Commander Hiwatari Satoshi, the man in charge of catching me?" His thoughts reeled back to the portrait he and Daisuke had talked over at his gallery exhibit; a stoic-looking man with silken hair and icy blue eyes. "Oh, well _of course_ you know the creepy bastard… Just my luck, ne?" He laughed, letting his arm drop down to his side, bringing Daisuke's with it. "Well this sucks!"

Daisuke looked impossibly giddy, his face flushed with excitement. "Hiwatari-kun's gonna be so happy! I caught the Phantom Thief Dark."

Dark growled, attempting to cross his arms and failing. "You didn't catch me. You tricked me." He placed his hands on his hips indignantly instead. "And personally, I really doubt that chunk of ice even knows what the word happy _means_."

"Don't talk about Hiwatari-kun like that. I've known him since junior high, for your information!" He used his right hand – his free hand – to pull his cell phone from his back pocket. "Now I'm gonna call him up here to take you out of my hands and arrest you."

Dark's mind started to spin. _Arrest? I think not!_ There was a protesting beep and a frustrated groan as he waited for Daisuke to realize that cell phone reception up in the mountains often fluctuated, more negatively than positively, though. Suddenly, a deliciously _devious_ idea began to form in his head, and he chuckled darkly as the artist beside him struggled noisily. "Awh _damn!_"

"Sorry about your little predicament, Daisuke." Dark's voice was liquid as he watched Daisuke wrestle with the keys of his phone. "But it seems like you can't contact Hiwatari at the moment. And considering the fact that it's snowing up a blizzard outside…I don't think you can haul me to the police station anytime soon. You're stuck with me until morning." He smirked dangerously and dropped onto the sofa, tugging Daisuke's smaller form down with him. "Might as well make good use of our time together…"

Daisuke fell onto the couch with a surprised cry, using his knees to break his fall. Somehow, he ended up sitting in Dark's lap, his knees straddling the thief's hips. "Dark, what are you –?"

"Relax, Daisuke. I mean," Dark whispered into the redhead's ear, snaking his left arm around Daisuke's waist, "you've taken a bit of an interest in my body, and you're not half bad yourself. It's only natural."

"_What's_ only natural?" Daisuke demanded, squirming awkwardly. Dark's toned body was surprisingly soft, and not to mention comfortably _warm_.

"Why, getting it on, of course!"

_That creepy predatory look on his face should be declared illegal,_ Daisuke decided, trembling slightly and trying not to look the thief in the eye. _I mean, as much as I'd like to agree to his suggestion… _He shook his head, insides curling as the fingers of Dark's cuffed hand intertwined with his own.

"Daisuke…"

Daisuke bashfully lifted his head up, locking gazes with Dark's darkened eyes. The way the thief had _purred_ his name sent shivers up his spine. "Dark…?"

"_Kiss me._"

- - - - - -

He hadn't expected Daisuke to obey him, but to Dark's utter delight, the artist actually had.

_Interesting…_

As Dark busied himself with Daisuke's sinfully soft lips, his left arm tightened possessively around the redhead's waist. With a simple brush of his tongue against the other's bottom lip, Daisuke's mouth opened invitingly and his tongue began a gentle exploration of the smaller man's wet caverns.

Groaning heavily into the kiss as their tongues danced against each other, Dark's free fingers unclenched Daisuke's shirt and began to wander, agilely drifting towards their clasped hands. He reached metal, smirked into the redhead's lips, and began to run the pads of his fingers over the metal's coolness, searching for something – _anything – _that would unlock his restraints. A trick mechanism, or an easily accessible clasp, perhaps.

Daisuke shifted restlessly and squeezed his thighs together, causing Dark to groan blissfully at the tight constriction of their lower halves and inwardly wonder if the other knew of his plans. He abandoned his search for freedom for a quick minute, choosing instead to disconnect their mouths and attach his lips to the smaller man's neck.

Once Daisuke was thoroughly distracted again – as his husky moans and whimpers proved – Dark continued to finger his handcuff, making sure his hand didn't brush unexpectedly against the artist's. He frowned against the other man's heated skin and nearly growled; however, he dutifully kept his lips pressed to Daisuke's flesh, peppering kisses along his neck and up to his jaw. Still inwardly scowling, he instigated another steamy liplock, matching his fervent searching with the hungry way he plundered the redhead's mouth.

The metal cuff was completely smooth except for where it actually locked; there seemed to be no way to unlock it without a key, unless he could somehow reach the wire in his boot while still keeping up the make out session… Not that it was a burden to him, oh _no_, not at all –

"OUCH!" Dark felt Daisuke pull away from his face languidly, smiling cheerfully in response to his outburst. "What the hell?"

Daisuke cocked his head to the side and stared thoughtlessly at his lifted hand, which coincidentally was the one attached to Dark's, and which coincidentally had been used to slap the thief in the face.

"Oh…" He licked his lips, a movement Dark certainly didn't miss. "Hiwatari-kun is…eh…an _efficient_ sort of person, if you can excuse my understatement." The redheaded man jangled the handcuffs and grinned. "These are new, state-of-the-art handcuffs, designed by Hiwatari-kun himself. They lack the secret opening mechanisms that usual handcuffs have, and they can't be opened with anything but the key."

Dark gaped. _How did he…?_

Daisuke evaluated the expression on his face, arching a brow. "You honestly think I didn't know what was going on? _God_, you're not _that _great of a kisser… Your arms were all stiff and you kept your hands to yourself instead of trying to molest me like a normal person would."

"Hey, Mister Conceited, you're not _that_ molestable, you know! And I'll have you know, I _am_ that great of a kisser."

Daisuke puckered his lips and stared at Dark sourly. "Yes, I kind of am," he snapped. "And no, you're not."

Eyes gleaming, Dark overpowered the unprepared man above him, flipping their bodies over and taking the more dominating role. He forced Daisuke out of his sitting position and laid him down until his back was completely flat against the couch's cushions, triumphantly hovering over the artist with a smirk plastered onto his face.

"D-Dark!" A deep red tint marred the ruby-eyed man's face. "Get _off_…"

Dark's smirk only widened as he crashed their hips together playfully, pulling a strangled gasp from the redhead's lips. "I'm going to prove you wrong, Dai-chan! I am _too_ a freaking awesome kisser."

"Dai-chan…? Hey, we decided on a compromise –" Daisuke's protests were rudely cut short when Dark's hot lips descended upon his, thoroughly silencing him. …But, of course, that just wasn't true. The flirtatious combination of the thief's tongue and hips reduced Daisuke to a whimpering, squeaking, grunting pile of mush. Suffice to say, he was probably the farthest thing from silent, due to Dark's ministrations.

However, before Dark could continue – and before Daisuke mind could un-fog itself to even think about pushing Dark off him – something very abrupt and pleasurable startled them both, causing their lips to part and simultaneously drawing moans from their disconnected mouths.

"Freaking _signal_!" Daisuke snarled under his breath, pulling his hands out of Dark's hair – when they had gotten there, Dark didn't remember – and shifting his hips out from under Dark's. With his free hand, he hurriedly jammed it into his pocket, where the source of their sudden burst of pleasure was. "_Now_ it decides to give itself bars…"

Dark laughed under his breath, climbing off the darkly muttering redhead and watching as he sat up against the sofa's back and pulled his wildly vibrating phone out of his pants. "And we were having _so_ much fun, weren't we?"

Daisuke shot Dark a dirty glare and flipped his cell phone open, not bothering to check who was calling. "Hello?"

Dark couldn't hear the voice on the other end, so he sat himself comfortably in the artist's lap and snaked his left arm around his small waist, pressing their faces together and straining to hear the voice on the other end of the line. With a soft smile playing on his lips, he pressed a kiss to Daisuke's cheek. Feeling playful, he continued to rain chaste kisses over the smaller man's soft skin, migrating up to the outer corner of his eye and down to the hollow part of his neck, right around his adam's apple.

Daisuke's breath left his lungs in one very quick whoosh. "Dark…no…" He struggled to keep the glower firmly on his face.

Dark responded to Daisuke's protests by flicking out his tongue and tracing the contour of his jaw.

Daisuke's glare heightened before transforming into a wicked smile. He pulled his face away from Dark's and held the phone closer to his ear. "Oh, hello Hiwatari-kun."

Dark immediately stiffened, clutching Daisuke tighter and staring him in the eye. _'Creepy bastard?' _he mouthed, eyes wide.

"No, no, it's just fine up here. I'm just painting a little, same old same old."

Dark glared at the phone, as though wishing for it to burst into flames.

"What? You want to come over?"

Dark shook his head rapidly, his lips puckered and his brows furrowed.

"Oh… Well I have company at the moment, and he's a bit of a handful."

Dark nodded. _Damn straight I am,_ he declared, grinning at Daisuke proudly.

"Who's my company?" Daisuke's wicked smile doubled tenfold. "Why, it's someone you know quite well, Hiwatari-kun."

Dark stared at Daisuke in horror, shaking his head slowly. _'Nonononono. Do NOT tell him,'_ he mouthed hurriedly, tightening his grip on Daisuke to the point that he was sure the artist couldn't breathe.

"No, I don't think you want to know who… You might want to storm up here and knock him out!" Daisuke laughed good-naturedly.

_Damn sadist! _Dark growled. _You're giving him too many hints!_

Daisuke laughed again. "Why, you genius. You caught us red-handed!"

Dark's eye started to twitch. _'S A D I S T,' _he spelled out, his lips moving slowly.

"Yes, yes, I know how much you hate him… But we've been – er, _friends_, I guess, since junior high! You know how strung up on me he is."

_Excuse me? Mister high and mighty, what are you talking about?_

"Well then, Saga-kun is starting to carve the word _manslave_ into the wall…I've gotta go. I'll tell him you said hello, okay?"

…_Saga-kun? Manslave? _Dark stared mystified as Daisuke sighed into the phone.

"Yes, yes, I know you never said hello in the first place. But it's not polite to tell him what you really said concerning him… Yes, yes, Hiwatari-kun. Take care to you too. Okay, yes, I'll protect myself from him. Okay. Uh-huh. All right. Bye!"

Dark grabbed the cell phone out of Daisuke's slack grip with his handcuffed hand, making Daisuke's arm float alongside his. "You… You didn't rat me out to Hiwatari."

Daisuke wiggled out from under Dark's body, causing the thief to fall ungracefully onto the ground. He stood above the thief's tangle of bodily limbs, placing his only free hand on his hip contemplatively. He stared down at Dark, his eyes discernable. "Dark." He said the name strangely; it sounded weird to Dark's own ears for some reason. "You…_interest me_."

- - - - - -

**Killah:** I bet you're all like "Wth is going on?" Dark drops in, they talk like normal people, they're both attracted to each other, Daisuke handcuffs their arms together, they make out, Dark molests Daisuke, Satoshi calls, Daisuke keeps Dark's presence at the cabin a secret, and then the chapter is wrapped up with a slightly creepy declaration of Dark's interesting-ness. It's really spastic and "WTF"-worthy, I know, but yeesh! This chapter took me forever! I had been planning to finish it and post it up on my birthday, the 18th, but that obviously didn't work out too well… Anyway…point of this A/N is that this chapter kinda sucks. XD Oooooooops! Argh. Maybe the next one will be better, and flow much smoother… But still… I hope the spastic choppiness doesn't piss you brilliant people off! It'll make more sense as the story goes on. :D …I'm hoping… /cough/


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